


Mr. Linden's Library

by Flamebreaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Demons, Fallen Angels, Fantasy, Inspired by..., Mystery Stories, Nephilim, Sentinels, The Mysteries of Harris Burdick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebreaker/pseuds/Flamebreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I actually wrote this for a school narrative writing project. There was apparently this guy called Harris Burdick who went to a book publisher and said he had written 14 short stories. He had the titles, a hand-drawn illustration, and a quote for each story with him, and would the publisher be interested if he came back the next day with the stories? Harris Burdick never returned. After 10 years, the publisher published the illustrations, quotes, and titles in a book of writing prompts called "The Mysteries of Harris Burdick". For English, we had to pick one of them and write the story. This was mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding the Book

It was beautiful. 

That was Ruthanne’s first thought. It was hands-down the most beautiful book she had ever seen, and despite how many times she had been to the library’s musty basement, she had never seen it before, which was practically sacrilege. But, the girl was certain she would remember if she had ever come across this book before. 

Pulling the tome from the shelf, Ruthanne huffed as the weight of it landed in her small hands – it was heavier than it looked – before blowing the dust off the cover. Bound in rich, oxblood leather, embossed with gold font, the book glowed in the dim, buttery light of the single lamp in the library basement. The letters across the front cover spelled out THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN, and a pair of angel wings swooped underneath the title in the same golden thread. She traced the feathers with the tip of her finger, shivering as a current passed through her. She was sure it was magic, but the logical voice in the back of her mind stopped her. The logical voice sounded a lot like her mother.

Thirteen years old, Ruthanne, and you still believe in magic. Those fantasy novels are going to your head.

But, magic or not, Ruthanne had to read it. She just had to. New old books like this didn’t show up in libraries just every day, and there was something special about this one. 

THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN barely fit in her rucksack with all the other books the girl had collected from her fortnightly trip to Mr. Linden’s library, so she gave up, tucking the tome under her arm and heading back upstairs to the counter. 

Ruthanne was not expecting Mr. Linden’s reaction. Immediately, he grabbed the old tome, holding it closed tightly, like he expected a monster to spring from the pages. His eyes were wilder and… and angrier than she had ever seen them, flashing with a flame as green as J.K. Rowling’s Floo Powder. 

“Where did you find this?” 

“Down… down in the basement. It was on a shelf with the other fantasy novels.” Ruthanne’s voice was small, shaky. This wasn’t like Mr. Linden at all. Ancient and sage, with black hair streaked grey and piercingly green eyes sharper than his years told, wise Mr. Linden was always calm and collected, and one of the most genuinely sweet people Ruthanne had ever met. He was a good part of why she felt safest on her fortnightly library visits, when he would sit with her and discuss the books she had read last week, and what good books to read in the next. In the winter months, he would make her tea, and summer meant sweet lemonade; autumn was hot apple cider and in spring, he had orange juice. He knew every member of his library, and treated them with the same, quiet dignity as he treated her. 

Ruthanne liked him, because even though he was old, he treated her well, not like she was a nuisance, the way her teachers did. He encouraged the vivid imagination and head-in-the-clouds nature that so frustrated other adults she knew. So, it was doubly hurtful that he would yell at her now, when all she wanted to do was read that book, the magic book with golden embossing and angel wings on the cover.

“This book is not to be checked out, Anna,” he said, calling her by her favoured nickname, gentling his tone when he saw how upset the girl looked, “It has a history, and I was not aware that it was on the normal shelves.” 

“Oh.” Ruthanne still looked sad. Mr. Linden smiled at her, and leaned over the counter to lift her rucksack onto the table for her. 

“Here, I’ll check these out for you, and I have another book that might interest you instead…” The old librarian bustled about, searching the shelves behind him until he found what he was looking for, placing THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN in an empty slot high on the shelf. 

Ruthanne was still miserable. She had been looking forward to reading the old tome, and now she wanted to know the history that had made even-tempered Mr. Linden snap at her. But, she took her rucksack from the librarian when he had checked out the last book for her, and turned towards the door. 

The logical voice in her head was silent, but another one, far more devious, had appeared. 

What’s to stop you from taking THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN anyway? it whispered, Mr. Linden leaves his desk all the time. You know exactly where the book is; you saw him put it on the shelf. You could sneak back and take it, and he wouldn’t notice until it was too late and you were long gone.

Ruthanne was thoroughly shocked by her own thoughts. Steal from Mr. Linden? She couldn’t. He was her friend. He was the only adult she knew that treated her as an equal. And, he was sharper than he looked. He would know. He would know what she had done. 

Nonetheless, her fingertips tingled with the same magic that they had when she had held the book down in the basement, and she longed to read it, no matter what the cost. 

So, Ruthanne found herself hiding in the shelves by the door, waiting. She was in luck. Benjamin, the little boy from down the road, walked in not ten minutes later, and the old librarian was immediately helping him find the perfect book on the human eye for his school project. 

Now’s your chance!

Long, slender legs moving quickly, Ruthanne shot across the library foyer, snatched THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN off the shelf from behind Mr. Linden’s desk, and sprinted out the door, sending snowy frost flying up in her wake, her long, chestnut hair streaming out behind her like a pennon in the bitter, early-winter wind. She did not dare to slow down until she had reached home. 

Slamming the front door shut behind her, the girl looked down at the embossed cover, running her fingers over the polished oxblood and feeling the same tingle as before. Good. She was almost scared she had imagined the book’s mysterious power. 

Her mother would be home soon, and Ruthanne still had homework to do before tomorrow, so she hid the book under the loose floorboard behind her bed, and got her school books out instead, focusing half-heartedly on the maths equations on the page in front of her, still daydreaming about angel wings and magic.


	2. A Magic World Revealed

That night, having gotten ready for bed without fuss and quickly changing into the singlet shirt and flannel pyjama pants in which she slept, Ruthanne eagerly pried up the floorboards and retrieved the tome. Switching on her bedside lamp and propping the edge of the book against the pillow, she lay on her side, feeling the crisp parchment of the front pages rustle under her fingers. 

THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN, the title read. There was no author. 

Soon, Ruthanne was completely absorbed in the story, in love with the angelic hero, scared to death of the demonic villain, devouring every page with the verve that only a true bookworm can. She wanted a Garden like the one in the Angel Queen’s backyard, where light filtered down through the leaves of huge trees, and flowers made the air smell so sweet. It would be so much nicer than the cold snow outside her bedroom window now. More than that, she wanted to meet the kind, handsome Sentinel that the story’s plot followed. 

Hours passed that Ruthanne didn’t notice passing, lost as she was in Realm of the Stars. How dare Mr. Linden warn her about this mysterious book? 

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed one. Ruthanne was exhausted, and she knew she had school the next day, but she could not put the book down. She needed to know what happened to the protagonist. Currently, he had been captured by his foe, and had been taken deep into Hell, where the bad guy was determined to break him. She couldn’t leave the story there, not with her hero being tortured; she would never be able to get to sleep. 

Finally, Ruthanne drifted off sometime near three in the morning, her hero injured but safe for now, THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN still open across her pillow. The bedside lamp did not quite banish the darkness of the shadows that thickened like spilled ink in the corners of her room.


	3. The Villian

As soon as the girl was asleep, it started. Slowly at first, delicate vines patterned with fine leaves sprouted from the book’s spine, winding across Ruthanne’s bed, slithering across the floor like snakes, forming thick pillars of green that became the trunks of trees, became dense foliage, blossomed into sweet-smelling flowers and lush greenery. A forest fit for a fairy tale had come to life in the girl’s bedroom. 

But, immediately, weeds grew between the shrubs, and a tall, powerfully-built monster of a man, snake-like features ugly and twisted with his own evil, stepped from between the pages. The flowers wilted, turning their pretty faces from the darkness in his eyes. 

Standing in the centre of the room, the man shed a pair of tattered, broken wings, grey as ash. Claws became finger nails; fangs shortened and dulled to eyeteeth; his hair turned from red to brown. Charred, scaly skin peeled away, revealing smooth, soft flesh. The blackness seeped from his eyes, and as he turned to watch the girl, his irises turned the same honey-brown as hers. 

The man – if he could be called such – leaned over the sleeping Ruthanne, stroking her cheek with the backs of his knuckles in a mockingly-gentle caress. A tendril of red hair flickered over her face, and the girl whimpered, her cheek burning.

“Oh, sweet child, enjoy your Eden. It is the last you will see of happiness.”


	4. The Hero

“Child! Child, by the Stars, awaken!” Large, strong hands shook her shoulders. 

Ruthanne woke with a start, jerking backwards and tugging the sheets up to the hollow her white throat, looking up into a pair of beautiful, green-and-gold eyes that looked every bit as startled as she felt. 

The eyes belonged to a familiar-looking man… with wings. He had wings. The man standing in her bedroom – which had somehow become a forest overnight, Ruthanne noticed dully – had swooping angel wings that put the ones on her book’s front cover to shame. Covered in frosted-silver feathers, they spanned nearly the whole of her room from wall to wall. 

“I’ve gotta be dreaming,” was the first intelligent thing her brain came up with. 

“I wish you were, Child,” the apparition replied with a small smile. His voice was deep, a rich, velvety bass that rumbled like distant thunder in his broad chest. 

“There is an Angel in my bedroom, I have vines growing up my bedposts, and… there is an Angel in my bedroom. I’ve gotta be dreaming,” Ruthanne repeated, more surely, as if saying it with enough confidence would mean she woke up. Besides, the man now standing at the foot of the bed was far too handsome to be real. Thick, blond hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail tied with a ribbon, framed a gentle, fine-boned face. And, his eyes… Ruthanne thought of a bracelet she had seen in a jewellery magazine once, made of malachite and amber beads. His eyes were same colour, tawny-gold rimmed with bright-viridian. “While I’m at it, Angel, who are you?” 

“I am not an Angel, Child; I am a Sentinel,” the winged man replied in that frighteningly low voice, before holding out an elegant hand, “My name is Areli.” 

“The hero from THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN,” Ruthanne realized, speaking out loud as she shook the Sentinel’s hand. Shock and sleepiness had made her a little daft. 

“I am indeed,” he answered. “And, sadly, Child, I do not know your name.”

“My name’s Ruthanne, but everyone just calls me Anna,” the girl explained, “Ruth is such an old lady name. Just my luck I have a weirdo biblical scholar for a father…” Ruthanne realized with an embarrassed start that she was talking to an Angel – well, a Sentinel, but she was still a little unclear on the difference; she had to remember to ask him later – and quickly bit her tongue. Areli was frowning slightly, the pale lines of his eyebrows furrowed low above those vibrant eyes. 

“Do you know the history of your name?” he asked, and Ruthanne quietly shook her head. “You might wish to learn it. ‘Ruth’ is a Hebrew name; it means ‘loyal friend’. If you read the Book of Ruth, you will discover that she was a brave, true woman. In fact, I am here because I need you to be brave and true. It might be good if you follow in your namesake’s footsteps.” 

“Oh.” Ruthanne blushed. “I guess Ruth isn’t so bad a name. Maybe, I’ll try it.” 

She had so many questions that she hardly knew where to start… and she was still not entirely certain that she wasn’t actually dreaming.

“I am afraid that opening THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN comes at a terrible cost,” Areli explained, “Many, many years ago, in the time you Mortals called the Dark Ages, a powerful Nephilim sorcerer found a clever way of raising his kinfolk. You know of the Nephilim?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Ruth still shook her head. Areli’s speech was starting to sound frighteningly like her father’s scholarly rants, but she never listened to them. She listened to Areli, however. Hearing stories from a handsome Angel with a voice like thunder was a lot more fun… if a lot scarier. She just wished the stories weren’t true.

“The Nephilim are a race created after the first of the Fallen. After Lucifer was banished, the Sentinels that agreed with him were cast from the Realm of the Stars as well. They wreaked havoc on the Mortal World, and… mated… with human women. The half-Fallen, half-human offspring of such unions were the Nephilim, merciless creatures with a human face but a demon soul, intent on destruction and chaos. Those are the monsters that the sorcerer wished to unleash.” 

“I remember my dad saying something about the Book of the Nephilim.” That’s where Ruth remembered the name from. 

“Yes,” Areli nodded, “The Book of the Nephilim was removed from the Bible so that it could be hidden from the sorcerer. He took any texts that mentioned the Nephilim and cursed them, so that they could not be opened or read without releasing the characters into the Mortal World. Then, he found books where the villains won, or the heroes faltered or fell, and cursed them in the same way. You see the weeds growing in your Garden?” Areli pointed out the dark, spiky plants that had paved the first man’s path. “They are the sign that the villain I face is loose in your world, and we have to get him back into THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN before he gathers power enough to defeat us.” 

“Gunari…” Ruth echoed, remembering the name of the demonic, red-haired monster in the story. Fear grabbed her by the throat, and she looked up at the Sentinel with wide, scared eyes. “You mean he’s here?!” 

Without a word, Areli nodded. Ruth looked at the charred, black weeds on her bedroom floor, and shame pressed heavily on the back of her neck. Her new Sentinel friend curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. She struggled to meet the bright, green-and-gold eyes. 

“There was a part of you that was willing to do anything to get that book, wasn’t there?” he asked gently, “And, you are ashamed of it.” Ruth nodded. 

“I knew it was wrong to take the book from Mr. Linden, but… but… I just had to read it. I just had to. Please, say you know what I mean?” 

“I do,” the Sentinel confirmed, “It was the book’s curse. I can sense your fear and regret, but you are not a bad person, Ruth. Nephilim are known for the power they have over Mortals, women and children especially.” 

“What if…” The girl’s voice was weak. “What if… the book’s curse takes me over like that again? What if… something bad happens?” 

“I need you to be brave and true, Ruth,” Areli told her seriously, his velvety voice as comforting as a well-worn blanket, “You are far stronger and far wiser than you know yet. Get ready. We will banish Gunari together.” What he didn’t mention, however, was that he knew how his story ended. But, the innocent girl standing before him had not read that far. Of all the people that had had to pick up THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN, Areli rued that it had been this one, not because of her failings, but because she was so young. Trembling in her flannel pyjamas, holding the book tight to her flat chest, this Mortal girl was still a child. “Whatever happens, promise me that you’ll be brave.” 

“I promise.” Ruth nodded, but she didn’t feel very brave, not like her Sentinel hero. 

Mr. Linden had warned her about the book. Now, it was too late. She had opened Pandora’s Box, and there would be the Devil to pay.


	5. Explanations

Hurrying down the steps besides the Sentinel’s long stride not five minutes later, carrying THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN under her skinny arm, Ruth tugged at Areli’s sleeve. At the Sentinel’s urging, she was wearing her warmest coat over her pyjamas, as well as her snow boots. 

“What do we have to do to stop Gunari?” she asked, a little breathless, from both fear and the pace of keeping up with the winged man… and, if she were honest with herself, excitement. Her breaths frosted in the winter air. “I mean, I don’t know anything about your world. I don’t even know WHAT you are. I mean, I thought you were an Angel. How is a Sentinel any different?”

“Angels are mortal souls, and becoming one means you once were mortal and are now deceased; Sentinels are a separate race, born of a Sentinel mother and father, created by the Archangels – who are a whole different kettle of fish – to protect your race. Angels go to Heaven. Sentinels live in the Realm of the Stars,” Areli explained, “We are the stars you see in the night sky.” 

By that point, Ruth had followed Areli outside and down the street, and she looked up quickly, narrowly avoiding walking into a streetlamp as she gazed up at the bright pinpricks of light above her, before staring, wide-eyed, at the Sentinel. 

“You are the stars???” 

Areli nodded, before continuing, 

“I’m Arcturus, in Science-Speech. But, there are Mortals who know our true names. You are now one. So are – were? – Jesus, Dante, Victor Hugo, Guillermo del Toro, Dan Brown, Eric Kripke…”

“What???” Ruth exclaimed. A couple of her school friends had been in the musical of Les Miserablés the year before in High School, and – a bookworm to the last – she had found the brick of the novel right after casting. Now, she found herself singing one of the musical’s songs, the one her friend had sung, in a whole new light. 

“Stars, out in your multitudes, scarce to be counted, filling the darkness with order and light. You are the Sentinels, silent and sure, keeping watch in the night. You know your place in the sky. You hold your course and your aim. Each in your season returns and returns, and is always the same. But, if you fall as Lucifer fell, you fall in flame…” 

“Exactly,” Areli told her, “Javert was a Fallen.” 

“Okay, so, what are the Fallen?” Ruth asked, thinking of the title of the tome that had started this whole adventure. 

“The title originally referred to those that were banished from the Realm of the Stars, like Lucifer. Now, they are Sentinels who have failed their role as Guardians. We are here to protect Humans from the power of Demons and Nephilim; we keep balance between good and bad. Each Sentinel gets a human soul to protect, to make sure it gets to Heaven reasonably intact. Sentinels that fail their human charges are reincarnated as a Mortal for a human lifetime. When their mortal body dies, their soul just ends up back in the Realm of the Stars, but they are more aware of the Mortals they are sworn to protect.” 

“Right.” Ruth was trying desperately hard not to be confused, focusing on the ground under her feet as she let her thoughts sort themselves out. It was then that she realized that they were headed back to the library. “Hey! Where are we going? Surely, returning the book now isn’t going to do much good…” 

“We are going to talk to Daniel Linden.” 

“Mr. Linden?” Ruth looked up at Areli, “Why? How do you know Mr. Linden?” 

“He is one of us, Ruth; he’s a Fallen,” the Sentinel explained, “As it is, he is the only other Sentinel around at the moment, and his library opens a portal to the Realm of the Stars, so he’ll help us. He runs the library to help search for the rest of the sorcerer’s cursed books.” 

The World had gotten a lot more magical than even Ruth’s wild imagination could fathom, and she stayed silent, trotting obediently by Areli’s side as her thoughts went around in circles, like galaxies spinning across the space of her mind.


	6. The Battle

Getting to the Library, Areli knocked three times on the heavy door, and there was a moment of total silence before Mr. Linden answered. He nodded to Areli, before sending a warning glance in Ruth’s direction, and beckoning them both inside. He looked… scared, and that scared Ruth. It was then that she noticed, irrelevantly, that the old librarian’s eyes were the same colour as Areli’s, just without the gold.

 

“Gunari is in the basement. He is looking for the Portal.” Mr. Linden – Ruth was still not used to Areli calling him ‘Daniel’ – filled them in on the Nephilim’s arrival, and filled the Mortal girl in on what needed to be done. They had to get Gunari back into the book, and then destroy it.

 

Dark creatures could sense the presence of Light easily, but Mortals, especially young mortals, were harder to detect. Ruth’s job was to draw a series of symbols in Esperanto, the language of the Realms, in a chalk circle on the floor in the basement without him noticing, then place the open book in the centre and try to coax him into the circle. Then, Areli would be able to say the incantation that would bind him back into THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN.

 

Slowly, focusing with every fibre of her being on not making a sound, Ruth padded down the stairs, clutching a piece of chalk in her small hand. Her knuckles were white, her hands shaking. But, she remembered Areli’s deep voice, urging her to be brave, so she was. At least, she tried to be.

 

Ducking behind a bookshelf when she heard a horrible growling, Ruth peered around the wooden panel, staring at the back wall where she had been standing just that afternoon. A huge creature stood with its broad back to her, having dropped its human form. Now, it stood on powerful, bi-jointed legs covered in charred, scaly skin, by which a blade-tipped tail lashed angrily. Tossing its head sent lank, red hair flying around a lantern-jawed, snake-like face with tusked teeth protruding from its bottom lip.

 

Gunari was even scarier than she had imagined.

 

Quickly, she pulled from her pocket the piece of paper Mr. Linden had given her with the symbols on it. She had to get them exactly right, and make sure that the creature entered the circle between the two bottom points of the five-pointed star. As carefully as she could, Ruth set about drawing the chalky circle on the dark carpet before laying THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN open in the centre.

  

More terrified than she had ever been in all her thirteen years, Ruth edged back to the bookshelf, and knocked her fist against the wood. The Nephilim turned around, focusing soulless, black eyes on her. But, the girl forced herself to stand still as the creature approached, waiting until the last possible second to duck behind the bookshelf, praying that everything would go according to plan….

 

When did things ever go according to plan? Hearing Gunari’s beastly roar and seeing the swing of a clawed fist, the only thing the young bookworm could think of was, _“The best-laid plans o’ mice and men gang aft aglee…”_ before Areli was yelling something, and a sword of light flashed between her and the Demon, and Ruth hid. Shamefully, she hid, too scared to face the battle outside the protective circle of her niche in the bookshelves, though she could hear her Sentinel shouting, his deep voice warped with pain. She covered her ears, unable to listen to the wrenching sound.

 

Finally, there was an almighty crash, and she whipped her head up to see the bookshelves topple to the ground like dominoes. Mr. Linden fighting with Gunari on the edge of the chalk circle, and losing badly, and there was no sign of Areli. Quickly, without pausing to think, she rushed forward, launching herself at the Demon’s back and grabbing a handful of his hair, dragging him backward into the centre of the circle.

 

The Nephilim’s roar sounded like Death itself.

 

As soon as he had put a clawed foot backward onto the open page of THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN, Ruth could hear Areli’s voice, clear and dark, shaking with the power of the chant. She looked around desperately, but his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and she still couldn’t see him. Mr. Linden was still fighting with Gunari, there was noise and light and darkness and evil, and Ruth had never been more scared. The floor under her feet within the circle was burning hot, searing through the soles of her boots, and she jumped back. Before her, the ivy that had appeared first from the tome wrapped up around the Nephilim’s legs, trapping his clawed feet in the spine of the book. No matter how hard Gunari fought, the vines held fast.

 

“Si spiritus minitas mihi in loco isto/ Per aquam et ignem igne aqua pugnare/ Banish animas in nihilo niusque/ ad ultimum potentiae removemus vestigii. Hi entium fugere malum/ Per tempora locaque fingit.”

_“If spirits threaten me in this place/ Fight Water by Water and Fire by Fire/ Banish their souls into nothingness/ and remove their powers until the last trace. Let these evil beings flee/ Through time and space.”_

 

Darkness seemed to close in on the space, the shadows swirling, congealing, deepening until they formed flickering, black flames that consumed the charred flesh, and a whoosh of air rushed backwards past Ruth’s ears as the darkness imploded in on itself, and THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN lay still in the centre of the circle, a clawed gash torn across the surface of the oxblood leather like an open wound.


	7. The Hero's Confession

Ruthanne looked at the book. She was trembling like a leaf from her bedroom garden, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes, though she fought as hard as she could to keep them unshed. She swallowed hard, taking a steadying breath.

“Areli?” she called into the darkness, “Areli? Where are you?” 

“Ruth.” 

The girl could hear his voice, but she couldn’t see him, and she jumped to her shaky feet, searching through the toppled bookshelves, calling for her Sentinel hero and praying that his voice would get closer, or he would appear from the piles of damaged books. 

“Areli?” Her voice rose, not angrily, more like her words were fraying around the edges, tattered by her grief, trailing away to barely a thread, a thin, golden filament. “I’m sorry. Where are you? Please….” 

“I’m here, Ruth.” 

“Where?!” she cried out desperately. 

“I am so proud of you. You were so brave.” 

“No, I wasn’t,” the girl sobbed, “You aren’t here… You fought the Demon. I hid. I heard you screaming and I hid, and now I can’t find you… Where are you, Areli?”

“You were very brave. Without your help, Mr. Linden could not have beaten the Nephilim.” The deep voice sounded proud, and despite her fear and her confusion, the girl was a little pleased. She wanted him to be proud of her. 

“You were there to help him. I wasn’t.”

“I was not there in body to help you, but you defeated Gunari anyhow.” 

“What do you mean?” Ruth questioned. “You were there. You said the incantation.” 

“THE BOOK OF THE FALLEN is a novel. I am nothing more than a character in a story, Ruth,” the voice told her, “I am not real. The curse brought me to life to help you, but with that gone now, I no longer really exist.” 

“NO!” the girl called into the darkness, “You can’t go. Please, don’t go, Areli! Please…! You’re the reason I’m brave. I was brave because you asked me to be. I can’t be… not without you….” 

“You can, Child. You are stronger than you seem, braver than you believe, and truer than you think. It has been an honour, Ruthanne.” 

Then, the voice was gone and the shadows returned to their places in the corner of the dimly-lit room. Ruth tried as hard as she could not to cry. 

“We need to go. It is nearly sunrise, and your parents will wake soon.” Ruthanne jumped at the sound of the voice behind her, almost surprised to hear Mr. Linden’s gentle tone, but she didn’t turn around. It seemed like something so… normal, after everything that had happened tonight. He called her by her old nickname, “Anna?”

“My name is Ruth.” The girl’s voice was shaky, but defiant. 

“Ruth, then,” the old librarian smiled, “I have to journey to the Realm of the Stars to make sure this book is destroyed; the evil that bound it is powerful. You should return home.” 

“I want to go with you!” 

“Areli will not be there, Ruth. He does not really exist, except in your memories and in the book.” 

“But… but…” the girl looked up with hurt eyes, tears glinting like bright jewels in the corners, “You are going to destroy the book. You can’t! Please, Mr. Linden, you can’t. It’ll destroy him, too.”

“It cannot be helped, Ruth. The curse is broken. Areli no longer exists to be destroyed.” 

Ruth slumped down, hugging her knees to her chest, not letting herself cry, even though she had become so attached to her Sentinel hero. 

“He knew, didn’t he?” the girl asked the old librarian, “He knew that banishing Gunari would banish him, too.” 

“Yes,” Mr. Linden confirmed, “He did not tell you because he did not wish for you to want the spell to go wrong to save him. He cannot survive here.” 

“I want him to. I liked him. He was my friend.” 

“I know. Do you wish to stay here for a while, Ruth?” Mr. Linden asked. She nodded mutely, watching as the old librarian – the Fallen One – muttered another spell. Suddenly, two large, feathered angel wings, like Areli’s, unfurled from his shoulders like white sails, and he vanished, the book clutched safely in his arms.


	8. Imaginary Friends

Alone in the library, leaning against a toppled bookshelf and shaken to the core, Ruth thought of her Sentinel hero, and she cried for a long time, rocking back and forth, her face buried in her knees, her skinny arms wound around her legs. 

But, finally, she forced herself to her feet again, and staggered up the stairs, through the main foyer of the library, and into the cold air of an early winter morning. She imagined she could see angel wings in the light coming over the horizon, and a sob tore loose from her throat before she could stop it. 

More snow had fallen while she had been in the library, and the first glints of sunlight made it glow. Smiling sadly, Ruth flopped down in the snow, still in her pyjamas. She hadn’t made snow angels since she was a very little girl, but it seemed fitting now. 

Looking at the shape, Ruth whispered a quiet thank you to her Sentinel, and starting trudging back toward home. 

But, halfway down the street, Ruth felt the light pressure of a hand on her shoulder, and she whirled around, looking up into a pair of beautiful, green-and-gold eyes that looked every bit as startled as she felt. They were set into a face made of morning mist, but they were undoubtedly Areli’s. Before her, a ghostly echo of the Sentinel stood, his skin so translucent that he was barely even there, his wings like clouds of breath in the cold of the early, winter morning. 

“Areli!” Ruth wanted so badly to hug him, but she was scared he would vanish if she did. “You came back. You do exist; I knew it! You ARE real.” 

“As real as the Velveteen Rabbit,” he chuckled, mimicking the bookworm’s literary references, “All the best children have imaginary friends.” 

“And, you can be mine.” Ruthanne laughed as he linked his arm with hers, and they walked down the street together, the Mortal heroine and her Sentinel hero. 

“Indeed, I can.”


End file.
